Array ( [sid] => 184111 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Tick Tock [time] => 2017-04-21 10:09:45 [hometext] => Rhythm and Blues [bodytext] => I had a little metronome;I tried to make it play;
Alas, tick-- tock was all it droned;as side to side it swayed.

Its mother was a clock that chimed.Its father a bassoon;
It couldn’t toot or tell the time! Much less hold a tune!

I tried in vain to drum on it;I puckered up and blew;
I plucked and picked and strummed it;My stethoscope turned blue.

The neighbors had gyrations,as I brandished my baton;
Despite my orchestrations, it wouldnt even gong!

It took 6 months to understand;We can’t be what were not.
It still ticks on to beat the band; My grandkids think its hot!

I count on it each morning, while our breakfast heats;
A perfect soft boiled egg is cooked in 67 beats.

Should fate bring you a metronome
Gift wrap it right away;
In Sheet music, baton enclosed,
The greeting card should say;

Wait til you hear it play!

Ive tucked mine in a closet;
Prepaid to ship airmail;
To neighbors waving from the deck;
The day their cruise ship sails. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 333 [topic] => 7 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Tick Tock


Tick Tock
Date: Friday, 21st April 2017 @ 10:09:45 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: softerware
I had a little metronome;I tried to make it play;
Alas, tick-- tock was all it droned;as side to side it swayed.

Its mother was a clock that chimed.Its father a bassoon;
It couldn’t toot or tell the time! Much less hold a tune!

I tried in vain to drum on it;I puckered up and blew;
I plucked and picked and strummed it;My stethoscope turned blue.

The neighbors had gyrations,as I brandished my baton;
Despite my orchestrations, it wouldnt even gong!

It took 6 months to understand;We can’t be what were not.
It still ticks on to beat the band; My grandkids think its hot!

I count on it each morning, while our breakfast heats;
A perfect soft boiled egg is cooked in 67 beats.

Should fate bring you a metronome
Gift wrap it right away;
In Sheet music, baton enclosed,
The greeting card should say;

Wait til you hear it play!

Ive tucked mine in a closet;
Prepaid to ship airmail;
To neighbors waving from the deck;
The day their cruise ship sails.

This poem is Copyright © softerware


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